A Promise to Keep
by vampirekyawl
Summary: Joining the Varden starts the most important journey in Tav's life. He wants to rid the land of Galbatorix as much as anyone else, but he's also on a personal mission. And Tav has a secret, one with the potential to destroy or revive everything.
1. The Varden

"Your wish is to become a soldier of the Varden."

It wasn't a question. Nasuada knew why I was there, why I had crossed hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles to be there. I wanted to fight with the Varden, to put to good use the skills I had learned. But I supposed I had to answer her whether I wanted to or not. And politely, too, judging from the guards with their sharp swords drawn. I could feel them staring at me from behind.

"It is." My voice still sounded strange to my own ears. After weeks of traveling alone, at least for the most part, I hadn't done much talking and it felt a bit odd to be forcing words out again. The swarthy skinned woman nodded, then twisted slightly in her seat (I assumed that as it was the only permanent chair in the room I was to pretend it was a throne of some sort) to look at the young man and woman standing nearby. I knew that the woman, at least, was not that young at all. Not that my knowledge of elves was terrific, but I had been taught that elves are generally older than they appear.

Without needing instructions from the Varden's leader, the man stepped forward. Unlike most others, I had no feelings of great awe upon seeing or hearing about the Dragon Rider. We'd met several days ago, when I was attempting to escape from a small group of soldiers of the Empire, and so far I'd seen Eragon do little to be overly astonished about. As he approached I noticed his dragon, her head sticking in through the back of the tent, peer at me, and for a moment I started to panic. Was it possible that she knew?

"I need to probe your mind first, to make sure that you are who you say you are," he said to me. I fought a curt reply. _Who else would I be?_ I'd been expecting this, though, and had prepared properly. I didn't know what he'd be looking for, but there were certain things that he didn't have to know. Things I didn't want anyone to know. I gave him no indication of a refusal, so after a few moments he apparently realized that I was going to allow him access.

He stood in front of me and I felt a consciousness touch my own. Tentatively, I lowered the wall around my thoughts, just enough for him to enter. I could feel his mind moving, looking through mine, trying to find evidence of treachery and deceit. He'd find none, of course, but I couldn't' convince them of that with just words. Suddenly, I winced.

"_Tav, Tav! Run!" Lirrus, his sword in one hand and his knife in the other, shouts at me. He is trying to fight off three different guards at once. Part of me wants to help him, but I know I have to do as he says. It's not just because I'm so accustomed to following his directions, but also because I know I'm the one they want, not him. But I'm only 15, and I'm scared. I can't move. More guards are coming, they're running towards us. I have to leave, but my feet don't seem to be working. My heart is beating so loudly that I'm sure everyone can hear it over the sounds of fighting. There's a bubble in my throat and it's hard to breathe. We'd trained for this type of situation, but everything is different now that it's actually happening._

_The new guards have arrived, and I know I'm out of time. They reach Lirrus, who's already managed to defeat two of the first guards, the ones who caught us escaping. He tries to fight them off, but some get past him. They come for me. This somehow manages to make my body work again, and I draw my sword. I go through the motions mechanically, but these men were trained the same way I was. They know every move. I still feel numb with fear, but I am able to conjure enough energy for a spell. I whisper the words in the Ancient Language and two of the guards attacking me fall, unconscious. The other three recoil momentarily, and I glace over at Lirrus._

_Then my entire world shatters._

_Lirrus is also caught off guard by my sudden attack with magic. He looks back over at me, looks directly at my eyes. As if in slow motion, I watch as a guard runs his blade through Lirrus' chest. Through my only brother. I watch as his eyes go blank. As he falls._

"I'm sorry," Eragon murmured, his face a mask of shock and guilt, as he helped me up. I hadn't realized it, but I'd ended up on the floor with my head between my hands. Nasuada looked alarmed, and even Arya looked slightly caught off balance. I couldn't tell by the dragon's face, but I thought I saw sympathy in Saphira's large sapphire eyes. She'd seen, too.

I looked down, embarrassed, as Eragon assured Nasuada that I was not working for the Empire and Galbatorix. I had a feeling that she would ask him later what he'd seen that caused such an unexpected reaction in us both. I didn't really mind if he decided to tell her, as long as he didn't want me to explain it. That memory was one of the worst I had. I thought I'd stored it away, in a place where Eragon couldn't go. I was obviously mistaken.

"Tav," Nasuada started. Her voiced seemed softer after what just happened, but perhaps it was just my own imagination. Lirrus used to tell me that I was too imaginative for my own good. "Near the armory tomorrow morning there will be a training session for members of the Varden's army. You said you've already learned how to use a sword and a bow, but if you go you can demonstrate to some of the commanding officers what you can do. I'll be there, as well. If we think that you'd be a strong soldier for the Varden, you can go on the next raid. Otherwise, you'll have to go through training." I nodded, unwilling to speak in case my voice betrayed me.

"I'll take you to see the Quartermaster," Eragon said suddenly. "You cannot live in the Infirmary," he added, a bit more sheepishly.

"When you're done, Eragon, I want you to come back here," Nasuada told him. "I need to discuss some things with you and Arya." He nodded to her before exiting the red command tent. Grabbing my pack up from the floor, I followed him, not without noticing that Saphira had pulled her head out of the tent. _Why is she coming with us to see the Quartermaster?_

I exited the tent to see Saphira near Eragon. Standing nearby was a group of elves. My eyes slid over the scenes in the busy camp, but they were continuously attracted to the foremost elf, the one who seemed to be in charge. He was covered in glossy blue-black fur with only a loincloth as clothing, and from here I could see yellow eyes glinting. Something about him, something besides his bizarre appearance, kept pulling my attention to him. I tried hard to put him out of my mind.

Eragon set off in what I supposed was the direction of the Quartermaster. At first I trailed behind him and Saphira, but then he slowed down and waited until I was walking next to him. He kept glancing at me, as if he wanted to say something, but decided not to each time. Finally, he sighed dejectedly and then straightened up.

"Are all of your belongings in there?" He motioned to my pack. I had the feeling that was not the question he wanted to ask me, but I replied nonetheless.

"Yes. When I was traveling by horse I used to have more things, but when I was in a tavern one day I overslept and came out to find that everything I didn't bring with me into the tavern was stolen, including the horse." I couldn't help but make a face. That had been one of the most humiliating moments I could remember experiencing. The thief, or thieves, had made away with a good portion of my food and water, as well as some of my arrows, my shield, spare clothing, and most of my money. I grimaced, but managed to give him a weak smile. "If I learned something from that, it's to never trust an innkeeper when he says his stables are safe enough to leave your saddlebags in." That produced a low chuckle from Eragon.

"Where were you when that happened?" He asked. I frowned, trying to remember. It seemed so long ago.

"Dras-Leona," I decided on. "Either there or Belatona." Eragon rounded on me, eyes wide.

"You walked _here_, in Surda, from _Dras-Leona_?" I shrugged.

"Or Belatona," I reminded him. I got the two cities confused often. "Anyway, I didn't walk the _entire_ way. Sometimes I rode on the cart of a traveler or trader who happened to be heading south, and once a man in one village needed to get three horses to his brother in a village several days to the south, so I rode one of them for him." He seemed impressed with, or doubtful of, my accomplishment. We walked on together in silence.

We'd arrived at the Quartermaster's tent, and Eragon told him that I needed a place to stay. Then Eragon, of whom I was still under the impression that he had an unasked question for me, left to return to Nasuada. After checking several charts, the small man in charge of residences directed me to a bare spot of earth near the outskirts of the tent city. In less than an hour some workers had set up the tent and put inside some basic pieces of furniture, such as a bed and a small table. Despite the fact that it was far away from the main centers of activity within the camp, was rather cramped on the inside, and looked like every other tent, something that gave me the feeling that I would have difficulty finding it again, I was relieved to go inside a space that I could call my own.

I made sure that both tent flaps were closed after entering. Gingerly, I lowered myself onto the bed and set my bag on the hard-packed dirt. I slipped a small dagger from my pack and tucked it neatly beneath the bed, close enough to the edge that I would be able to pull it out but far in enough that it wouldn't be seen. It was a habit I'd developed after several close calls.

Stretching, I arched my back and raised my arms into the air. I knew dinner wouldn't be served for a while, and I couldn't think of a reason that anyone would want to talk to me so urgently that it couldn't wait until the next day. Satisfied that I wouldn't be disturbed, I pulled my tunic off, and then the shirt underneath it. I undid the bandages around my chest before quickly putting my shirt back on. If I was going to be alone I might as well be comfortable. However, I decided to refrain from putting back my tunic. Instead, I left it next to me as I laid down in the bed to think, putting the pile of bandages on top of it. If someone were to come looking for me, I'd only need to take my shirt off again to redo the bandages. After all, I couldn't afford anyone to know my greatest secret. No one would allow me to fight as a soldier if it was discovered that I was actually a girl.

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Author's notes:

First, I want to thank everyone who gets this far for reading. I promise it'll get better. I hope.

Second, I want to say that I read _Brisingr _some time ago, and I don't remember if they were still in Surda at the end of the book. I know they started moving north, but I'm not sure if they got that far yet.

Third, I'd like to beg for reviews :)


	2. Making an Enemy

I arrived early that morning, just as Nasuada instructed, to the clearing among tents near the armory. I'd awakened before the sun rose in order to quickly run to the river to bathe (the rest of the Varden could walk around under layers of sweat and dirt for all I cared, I just couldn't stand doing so), went back to the camp to eat breakfast just as the sun was coming over the horizon, and despite the fact that it was still early morning there were dozens of men who had gotten there before me. My quiver, holding both arrows and my bow, was strung across my back and my sword was buckled to the belt at my waist, but seeing all those men sparring together made me feel odd. As if I were somehow inferior to them. The logical part of my mind told me that wasn't true, that most, probably all, of those men had never gone through the strict discipline I had when I was training as a soldier. But still, the feeling persisted, even after seeing many of them fall multiple times during the practice.

I stood awkwardly in the same spot for a while, unable to figure out what it was that I had to be doing. Was I supposed to just go in and start to show my swordsmanship and archery? But if that were so, how would the people watching know who was who, or just what was going on? It would be total, utter chaos. Luckily, just as I was about to decide to go back to my tent and consider what to do from there, one of Nasuada's men spotted me and approached the small plot of land to which I had seemingly been rooted like a tree. He was not quite middle aged, but the stress of the times had added years to his face and created deep creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth. A dark, neatly trimmed beard that was starting to gray obscured part of his face. Still, the dark blue eyes that met mine shone with an almost youthful electricity.

"My name is Aulis, Captain Aulis," he said to me, "and I assume you're a recruit?" I nodded.

"Yes. My name is Tav." He grinned at me.

"Well then, Tav, if you'll follow me, I can observe your…skills," he said the last word as if he found it amusing, like he doubted that I could use a sword and a bow proficiently, or even at all. I took that as a personal challenge, though his voice held a playful ring to it.

With my slightly hurt pride, I followed Aulis around the perimeter of the cleared area. We stopped first at a white line painted in the grass. Standing with the toes of my boots touching the line, I faced a target several yard away. Picking up an arrow from a container on the ground and handing it to me, Aulis instructed me to hit the target. I pulled out my bow from the quiver on my back and slipped a thin packet from the pocket sewn into my breeches. From between the slick pieces of paper that formed the packet I produced an oiled string, which I used to string my bow. I tested it for a short moment, to make sure the bow was limber. Satisfied, I nocked the arrow, pulled back, aimed, and fired. It was dead on, the arrowhead buried in the center of the target. Aulis moved me back several times, telling me to shoot from the farther distances. Each time my arrow it its mark. After that he had someone carry a thick, wooden shield painted with a white circle in the middle and run in front of me. I was to hit the circle, which I did. It was after midday when Aulis finally seemed content with my work and decided that I was able to shoot.

He led me to another place in the area, which still pulsed with men. We came to a man standing alone, and I realized that he had been waiting for us. The large man donned chain mail and a leather cap. At his waist was a sword longer than my entire arm from shoulder to finger tips.

"You say you can fight with a sword, so now prove it. If you can defeat this man, Jarek Arcansson, or at least not lose pathetically to him, you can fight with the Varden. Otherwise, you have some training ahead of you." I was about to respond when the man, Jarek, burst out laughing. I couldn't understand what had been said that caused the outburst, nor did I know why it rendered him unable to speak for several minutes. I glanced at Aulis, who seemed to be as confused as I felt. After a while other people started to look over at us.

Finally, Jarek was able to gasp out speech. "You…want me to…fight…_him_?" That was followed by a short flare in his laughter. I blushed indignantly, and would have replied sharply had the man not continued. "He is a child! Look, the boy is beardless and thin as a twig. I doubt he could hold a sword, much less fight with one. Captain, please, we have little time for pranks and high jinks. Bring my real opponent." The blood surged in my head at the insult, though I understood where it had come from. Obviously, as a female I was unable to grow a beard. And I was slender, as well as shorter than average (for a boy, at least).

"Why?" I snapped, perhaps unwisely. "Are you afraid of losing to a 'child'? Are you so unconfident in your abilities that you will feign amusement at my appearance to protect yourself?" Then, pent up anger prompted me to add something I'd regret immediately. "A real man would fight! Or have you dressed up in your husband's armor and he in your dress as a game?" Suddenly the laughter stopped. The look on Jarek's face would have frightened away an army of Urgals. I swallowed, wishing that I'd possessed the sense to stop talking before the insult left my mouth. Thinking about it logically, it didn't make much sense for me, a nearing-seventeen-year-old girl, to slight him by calling him a woman.

"Why, you insolent little bastard!" he sputtered at me. Rage turned his face a shade of red-purple from a lack of air. Aulis looked at me, shocked that I'd insulted Jarek. _Well,_ I thought grimly to myself, _there's a good chance he'll get to see whether or not I can fight Jarek now_. Jarek pulled his massive sword from the sheath threateningly. I froze, still trying to comprehend the enormity of what I had done. However, some obscure god must have smiled on me, because what happened next might have saved my life.

"You are not willing to spar with a child, but you are willing to fight one in a duel?" The voice came from behind Jarek, who whirled around to see the man who spoke. It was a blond haired man with a beard who was separating himself from the rest of the gathered crowd. His clothing was rough but clean, and a strong build told me that he, at some point in his life, had done hard work for an extended amount of time, perhaps as a farmer.

"Stronghammer," Jarek seethed, "stay out of this! This boy here thinks he is a man, so why should I not treat him as one?" _Stronghammer?_ The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't figure out from where.

"You consider him a boy, so perhaps you should reflect on your own childhood to understand him. Are children not often loose-tongued? The Varden cannot afford those within it to fight amongst themselves, so either forget it or save your argument for another day." The way the man spoke, it reminded me of Eragon. Then I remembered why I knew the name Stronghammer. I couldn't remember exactly where I'd heard it first, but I recalled listening to men talking about a fearsome new warrior who called himself that. They'd said his real name was Roran, and that he was the cousin of the Dragon Rider.

Jarek pulled his lips back in a snarl and seemed to be about to say something when Aulis stepped forward. The Captain had regained his composure and gently placed his hand on Jarek's blade to stop him from swinging it. At this Jarek's head snapped to look at Aulis, his face holding a look of betrayal. Roran looked at him calmly.

"Roran is correct. The Varden has enough problems without having to worry over internal squabbles. Anyway, from what I've heard, Tav's had a rough past few days. I'm sure he didn't really mean any disrespect." After my outbreak I'd managed to recover control over my mouth, otherwise I'd have had several responses to Aulis' comment. First of all, I _did_ mean that insult. I was just ashamed that I'd actually said it out loud, and to Jarek's face. Second, I'd had more than a 'rough past few days.' Not to complain, but my entire life had been on the rough side. I learned to deal with it a long time ago, so that wouldn't be a reason to prompt me to do anything, especially insult a man twice my size.

After a few speechless, tense moments, Jarek sheathed his sword. He nodded once to Aulis, and before he stormed away he turned to glare at me. He didn't need to say anything for me to know that I'd made an enemy. As we watched Jarek weave between the crowd of men until he was invisible, I almost signed a breath of relief, but caught myself at the last moment. That would make me appear weak. I was then suddenly aware that both Aulis and Roran were watching me.

"Tav," Aulis began, "what were you thinking? He could probably break your arm like a dry stick. I would've thought you'd be smart enough to know not to pick fights. Things like this cause problems for the Varden. What if we needed to send two people on a mission, and you and Jarek were the only ones suited for it? It wouldn't work, because if you two have some sort of feud going on how can we be sure that you wouldn't kill each other?" I understood what he meant, but that didn't mean I agreed with it. There was no way that I would allow Jarek, or anyone, insult me without some sort of retaliation. I just usually preferred to wait weeks, even months, for that retaliation.

"It won't happen again," I promised him. I wasn't going to apologize for something I wasn't sorry about, and because Aulis seemed nice enough I wasn't going to lie to him, either. He nodded, satisfied with my response.

"But," he continued, "now we need someone else to spar with you." Roran, who hadn't left, I noticed, spoke up.

"I'll do it." Aulis frowned.

"You don't use a sword."

"So? In battle, not every opponent fights with the same weapon. A swordsman is a swordsman, no matter what their enemy wields. And any weapon in the hands of a skilled fighter is just as effective as any other." Slowly, Aulis nodded. He looked at me.

"If you can hold your own, even for a short while, against Roran Stronghammer, then I'll recommend that you be put into the army." Then he glanced at Roran. "As for you, take it easy. Try not to mash up new recruits." Roran grinned, but my face remained stony. What made them think that I would lose so easily?

I unsheathed my sword as Roran pulled his war hammer from his belt. Aulis stepped aside as we began to circle each other. We did that for a few moments, each of us observing how the other moved. From my limited experience with hammers, I knew that my best chance was to avoid being hit at all. Unlike with another sword, I had to remember not to block his blows with my blade, or it might break or become damaged in some way. Suddenly, Roran rushed at me. I dodged him nimbly, but I had a feeling that he wasn't attempting to come into contact with me. For now.

We exchanged blows for nearly fifteen minutes, and gradually we gained both speed and intensity. Sometimes it seemed as if he would come out on top, and at others I appeared to be winning. Then I noticed he had a slight hesitation, so slight that I probably would not have caught it if I hadn't been trained to look for things like that. When it came around again, I struck swiftly. Our mock battle became much faster and more desperate. Then the crowd that had gathered around us gasped collectively when we stopped, the tip of my sword touching Roran's throat. Roran and I both grinned as we lowered our weapons. Aulis walked over to me, a surprised but pleased expression on his face.

"You keep doing the unexpected today, Tav. I think you'll make a fine soldier," he said. I smiled at his praise. "A messenger will come to you sometime tomorrow and give you the information you need." I nodded, invigorated by his praise. Roran clapped me on the shoulder before walking towards the armory.

I looked at the sky to determine the time and realized that not much time had passed. Unsure of what to do, I wandered in a random direction. After walking for a while, I felt someone's eyes on the back of my neck. I stopped and whipped around to see who was looking at me. There were a few people milling about, but none of them seemed interested in what I was doing. Then I noticed a strange looking cat in the middle of the path between the tents. It sat eerily still, it's bright eyes focused on me. Abruptly, it stood up and darted away. Feeling somewhat disturbed, I turned and continued on my path.

I passed by a narrow alley between the backs of tents and noticed someone standing at the end. I backtracked and looked to see who was there. Eragon. He had a strange expression and motioned for me to follow him. Then he went down another alley. I dashed after him, intrigued. What could the Dragon Rider want from me?

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Author's notes:

Thank you again for reading this far!

I'd like to address the scene where Tav and Roran were fighting. I don't know many technical terms, so I can't write detailed fight scenes. Don't yell at me, please :(

**Reviews? Pretty please?**

(And just in case nobody realized it, I don't own the _Inheritence Cycle _or anything from the books. Just Tav, Aulis, Jarek, and any other original characters)


	3. Secret Revealed

Maybe if I ask for **reviews** at the top, you good, kind people will write some???

I don't own the _Inheritance Cycle_ or the things from it, just the original characters and the plot.

* * *

I followed after Eragon, my boots making light tapping sounds as they hit the hard earth. When I caught up to him he glanced at me and nodded, but continued to walk at a slow pace in silence. I walked next to him, content not to have to talk, but after a few minutes I started to get annoyed. He obviously wanted to tell or show me something, so why didn't he just do it? Just as I was about to ask him what exactly was on his mind, we stopped. I looked around, but didn't see anything that would explain his behavior; on either side of us were only the white backs of tents.

"I heard about what happened today," Eragon began. Guessing what he was about to say, I sighed exasperatedly.

"I _understand_," I snapped at him. He looked taken aback, but I continued anyway. "I know that making enemies within the Varden is bad, especially when your enemy is some important soldier. I'm not stupid. But is it really necessary for you people to keep making the _same_ point over and over again?" Both Aulis and Roran had already said this, so I didn't need to hear it a third time.

Eragon's brow furrowed. "Enemies…What are you talking about?" I glanced at him sharply in confusion.

"What are _you_ talking about?" I asked him.

"Well, if you'll allow to me finish this time, I can tell you." I blushed, embarrassed at my outburst. He went on, "A messenger who was watching the training came to tell me that a young recruit bested Roran in a fight. He described the recruit, and I figured that it was you. Was it?"

"Yes," I replied warily, wondering where he was going with this. Suddenly, he looked uncomfortable.

"What-Well, _did_ you…_do_ anything to him?"

"Like _what_?" I was completely confused. Was he afraid that I had hurt Roran? "Eragon, whatever you want to say, just say it."

"Did you use magic on him to win?" My eyes widened, and for a moment I couldn't talk. I was used to people doubting the fact that I was a decent fighter, but did Eragon honestly think that I would use magic to win a mock fight?

"Of-Of course not!" I sputtered vehemently when I regained the ability to speak. "What makes you think that I did? Is it so inconceivable that I could actually fight and win fairly? Why, because I'm so-" I stopped in midsentence. Though the tents casted shadows on us, throwing the narrow alleyway into an artificial night, I thought I saw a slight blush redden his cheeks. I didn't need to know Eragon for long to realize that he was acting very peculiar. "_What_?" I asked him suspiciously, my voice quieter.

"In Nasuada's tent yesterday, when I saw that memory, I noticed something…odd." As he spoke, he looked away from me, refusing to meet my eyes. "I've been thinking about this since then, and asking you is the only way I can be sure if I'm right or not." He stopped.

"Go on," I prompted.

He gritted his teeth. "Are you a woman?" He asked bluntly. Suddenly I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of my lungs, and my jaw hung loose. Shock clouded my mind, shock at the fact that he somehow knew my greatest secret. Then instinct drove me to do something I would never have normally done: I turned to run away. Had I been thinking about it rationally, I would have known that running would make absolutely no difference whatsoever. As I started to run, Eragon, having the elven reflexives to match his face, caught my arm. "I need to know!" I tried to pull away from him, but to no avail. He had an iron grip that would make a blacksmith envious. Realizing that I could not get away, I stopped trying and straightened up. That momentary lapse in judgment was over.

Looking Eragon in the eye, I replied coolly, "I am. And what of it?" He let go of me, and I tensed my body but stayed still.

"The Varden doesn't let women fight. You're breaking the rules." He said this to me as if I didn't already know it. Obviously, if women _were_ allowed to fight, I wouldn't be hiding my sex, would I? But there was something on my mind, a nagging thought I couldn't quite grasp, that was bothering me, so I decided to try to draw out this conversation, no matter how unpleasant or uncomfortable it was, in order to figure it out.

"Arya is a woman, and she fights," I pointed out. I knew it wasn't a strong argument, but it did the job.

"That's different. Arya is an elf. They're stronger than humans in general, so elf women are-" he stopped himself before he went on, but the idea had already been conveyed. _If all elves are superior to humans, then elf women are superior to human women_. It was a good thing, too, that he stopped, because when he did I realized that my sword was still buckled to my belt, and that my hand had crept to the hilt. I don't know if I would have tried to hurt him with it, but luckily he never gave me the chance to find out.

Suddenly, that evasive thought became clear. I toyed with it in my mind, and as I thought about it I felt my anger growing, like a fire building inside me, getting hotter and hotter. I looked at Eragon, and he must have sensed the change in my mood. Though I let my hand slip from the hilt of my sword, he stepped back and raised his hands slightly, fingers spread, as if to calm me.

"You think," I began, my anger turning to boiling rage, "that because I'm a woman, I couldn't possibly have beaten Roran? Roran, who's been training to fight with a hammer for, how long? A few months? I've learned how to handle a sword since I was seven! It's taken years! I've trained with several different weapons, became proficient in all of them, mastered most. I've built up my strength to _fight_, unlike Roran, who's a farmer! Being a soldier is my life! It's taken everything I have, but my masters have praised me as being the best pupil they've ever trained. I can beat just about anyone in a fair swordfight, and I've proved it, but you believe that skill is based on a matter of birth? And what of you? The last I heard, only nobles can become the greatest warriors, but you were born a farmer." I was shaking, and my head was light from the lack of air I had taken in before and during my rant.

"Tav," he started, then said, "Tav is your name, isn't it?"

"Tavara," I amended, "but I've always been called just 'Tav'. My brother started it when I was little."

"Tav, there's a reason women don't fight. They're too fragile, and they frighten easily. Men aren't like that, so we make the better soldiers. The woman's place is by her man, to help him and raise his children. Maybe you're different, but that's how it is. What if other women found out you fight, and they decide to try it? Mothers and daughters would be slaughtered, and then what?" He spoke so somberly, so rationally that I almost believed him for a second. Then I shook my head slowly.

"It's so strange to hear such narrow-minded things coming from the mouth of a man who's friendly with elves and dwarves. Perhaps if you trained your weak, fragile, frightened women to handle a weapon, they wouldn't be slaughtered so easily. Men go through training to learn to be soldiers, so why wouldn't women? I _told_ you, I trained for years to fight. If other women did the same, the Varden could double its army in humans alone. But, of course, stubborn, narrow-minded men like yourself, and from what I've seen all men are like you in that respect, would never allow that to happen. Stave off efficiency for the protection of tradition, is that how it is? When the men of the Varden fall, at least they'll die with the knowledge that their wives and daughters are doing absolutely nothing, just as our ancestors did." I was calmer now, and I could think clearly.

Eragon was silent, and at first I thought he was just thinking to himself, but his expression changed several times, as if he were having a silent conversation with someone, a conversation that wasn't going very well. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I jumped when I heard his voice again. "Certain ideas don't come naturally to me," he said. "I have the things I was brought up to believe already in my mind, so when new concepts challenge them…it's hard to let go. But you were right, calling me narrow-minded. That was, very much so. But for now, I don't think it would be a good idea for anyone, men or women, to find out about you." I nodded.

"By the way," he added, "Angela the herbalist fights, too. I forgot about her. And she's a human."

"Angela the herbalist," I mused. The name and title had a nice ring to it.

Just then, a dark shape flickered at the edge of my vision. Both Eragon and I turned sharply to see it, but it darted away along the tops of the tents before I could see what it was. I looked at him, wondering if he had seen, but he shrugged. _The mention of a mystic like an herbalist_, I thought to myself, _just before seeing a strange object that disappeared before I could really see it. What an odd…coincidence_.

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First off, I'm sorry if anyone thought Eragon was acting a bit too chauvanistically, but some things that happened in the book (two instances in particular) made me see him like that. But, at least he redeemed himself, right? :)

Second, I'm sorry that this took so long. I had most of it written, and I finished it today.

Third, I'll ask for it again, **reviews** please? Anyone? Pretty please with a cherry on top!


	4. The Cat Returns

Maybe if I ask for **reviews** at the top, you good, kind people will write some???

I don't own the _Inheritance Cycle_ or the things from it, just the original characters and the plot.

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After making my way through the labyrinth of tents, I found myself near Nasuada's red command tent. At the sight of it I remembered what occurred there yesterday, how Eragon saw the memory of my brother's death and discovered my secret. I felt the raw fear yesterday as clearly as I had on that night, nearly a year ago. If Eragon had been looking at the memory closely he would have seen the symbol on the guards' uniforms, indicating that they were from Ceunon, high in the north. _If only I could have been closer to the Varden when I left_, I thought, _then maybe I'd have a chance to help– No, I can't think like that. What's done is done, and there's no use in considering "what if"s. But sometimes I can't help it. If it hadn't taken so long…_

I was startled out of my thoughts when something rubbed against my leg. I whirled, my hand grabbing the hilt of my sword by instinct, but nothing was there. Then I heard the purring, and I looked down. It was the cat I had seen earlier. Now that it was closer, I saw that it had a big mane around its head, and when it looked up at me I noticed it had red eyes.

_I hope you don't plan on trying to stab me with that_. I jumped at the voice, and was taken aback that it had come from my own mind. At least, I hadn't heard anything with my ears.

"Who's there?" I said out loud, albeit somewhat quietly. There were people all around me, going about their business. Many of them offered me strange glances. When the words left my mouth I felt the cat paw my leg. I looked down in surprise. "You?" I whispered.

_Yes, now please sheathe your sword before people start passing rumors that you stab cats_. I stared at it for a moment, unable to believe that a cat was speaking to me. Slowly I did as it had asked and slid the sword back into its sheath, although I didn't remember drawing it in the first place. I suppose it had become a habit over the time I had spent on my journey.

I opened my mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Reaching out with my mind, I touched the cat's consciousness. _Who are you?_

_I'll assume that you are asking for my name, and though I've gone by many you may call me Solembum. I am a werecat. Follow me_. With that, he turned and set off. I stood still for a moment, then started after him. It was difficult, as he moved fast and often disappeared in crowds. Finally, I saw him dart into a tent. Sitting in front of the tent was a woman with curly brown hair on a stool. She seemed to be writing in a leather-bound book, but looked up when the cat went past her. I came to a halt several feet from her, unsure of what to do next. Surely I couldn't follow the cat, Solembum, into the tent. It probably belonged to the woman, and it would be incredibly rude to go in uninvited, especially when she was right outside.

The woman smiled at me unexpectedly. "Hello!" she said brightly. "My name is Angela. I heard that someone new had arrived at the Varden yesterday, and that just this morning they had beaten Roran in a sparring match. That someone would be you, correct?" I was momentarily stunned at the woman's outburst, but managed to nod numbly. Angela? I knew I had just heard that name. Angela…the herbalist! Eragon had mentioned her.

"Normally I wouldn't offer this, but since Solembum decided to find you, then I think I should." Angela lifted a pouch, not exactly small but it wasn't very large either. "Would you like to have your fortune told?" My eyes widened. She had said it so casually, as if she were asking what food I most prefer for breakfast. It's not that I was overly superstitious, but I grew up in a place where everyone else was. Certain things, like the belief in fortune telling, had rubbed off on me. I gave such things a certain reverence when encountered.

My fortune. My future. I couldn't help but think about the advantages that would give me. But what if she foretold something horrible that was to happen? Did I really want to know that? Still, I could find out so many useful things. However, no matter where my thoughts went, they always come back to death. A painful, terrible death.

With that on my mind, I forced a smile. "No," I declined her offer. "I think the future is best left unknown." Angela's smile did not waver, but I saw something in her eyes. It wasn't malicious, but it left me thinking. She nodded.

"Well, then, may I ask you something?"

"Okay," I replied, unsure.

"Can you see a difference between frogs and toads?"

"Well," I started uneasily, wondering what she was getting at, "toads have warts, don't they? And frogs are smooth."

"Ah, thank you." She got up and stored her book in a bag hanging from her shoulder. "I have someone to meet right now, so I have to go. Please come visit again." With a smile, she turned and walked away, leaving me extremely confused.

Shaking my head at my odd encounter with the strange herbalist, I walked towards the dining tent. Unfortunately, I got lost and it was nearly an hour before I reached my destination. Ravenous, I entered and received a plate with a small piece of meat, a single stick of celery and a few small slices of carrot. I looked at the man who had given it to me, offended. He simply shrugged and advised me to either raise my status within the Varden or grow bigger. I stalked over to a table, grumbling about how convenient it was that the man did not seem to have heard about my feat earlier that day.

I finished off my too-small meal in a few minutes. My sudden bad mood prompted me to just leave the plate on the table, wishing to make things as difficult for that man as possible. As I left I nearly bumped into a strange looking man who appeared to be panicking. He was short, shorter than me, with silvered hair, a shirt with short sleeves decorated with pictures of flowers, short pants, sandals and some type of thick, short stocking that was white and only came up to his ankles on each foot. He looked at me, his eyes wide.

"I'm looking for the man I was with before!" he said to me loudly, clearly upset. I took a step back, thinking that this man was crazy. "He's tall, and he always looks angry. But he's not carrying a weapon." As a matter of fact, I had seen a tall, unarmed man before who seemed to be irritated before in the dining tent. He was dressed strangely as well, but in a different way than this man.

"I think he's over there," I told the man, pointing to where I had seen the other.

"Oh, thank you so much!" the short man cried out, relieved. He rushed to the area I had directed him to.

My brow furrowed slightly, and I wondered how many other crazy people were in the Varden. I continued on, and eventually arrived at my own tent. The sun had nearly set, and I was surprised that so much time had passed. I sat down on my bed and pulled out the single book in my pack. I had already read it at least twice, but I enjoyed it. Plus, I had nothing else to read. So for the next few hours I laid there, absorbed by the epic. Eventually I fell asleep.

That night I dreamt of talking toads, frogs with manes and red eyes, and short herbalists looking for people and answers. Some were fuzzy and indistinct, others were clear. They flowed into each other like water, elements of one becoming part of another.

***

I awoke suddenly. My heart was beating as if I had just run a long distance, and I was sweating. Trembling, I pushed myself out of bed. I tried to stand, but collapsed onto the floor and had to crawl to the tent flaps. I poked my head outside to determine the time. It was still nighttime, and the sky was shrouded by clouds so I could not figure out how long it would be until sunrise. My first thought was that it was probably the regular time I woke up, but unlike yesterday there were no people in the camp. In fact, the silence was deafening. It pressed on me like a physical force. It disoriented me.

I pulled back inside the tent. Sitting in the hard ground was uncomfortable, but for some reason I felt weak, and I didn't think I would be able to stand up right away. I drew my legs towards my body and wrapped my arms around them, then I rested my head on my knees. There were many things going around in my head. I tried to remember what dream I had that put me in this state, but try as I might I couldn't figure it out. The absolute silence outside made me anxious, even though I knew it was probably because everyone was sleeping. Well, I supposed that there were a few people awake, probably some guards and the elves.

When I calmed down, I stood up and laid back down on my bed. I tried to drift into sleep once again, but to no avail. Instead of wasting time, I decided to get a start on the day. I would go down to the river, which would be especially safe at this hour since it seemed that most of the Varden was still in tents, bathe, and then return to my tent. I had wanted to clean and sharpen my sword for several days, so I figured this would be the perfect time. My dagger, having been through little use in the past weeks, was not a problem, and I would have to wait a few hours before I could get more arrows from the fletcher. It dawned on me that perhaps for the first time in a very long time I might have nothing to do. I reveled in the heartening thought as I grabbed a small blanket from my pack to use as a towel.

I trotted quietly through the now empty streets of the tent city. It was eerie, to say the least, seeing everything that way. Eventually I reached the banks of the Jiet River. I stripped off my clothes, folded them neatly and put them in a small pile, and waded in. I was careful to go towards an area with a fair amount of rocks. They would break the flow of the river so it wouldn't be as strong. I stopped when the water reached a few inches above my waist.

I bent my knees to lower myself more, so that the water touched my shoulders and tickled my neck. I closed my eyes and murmured words in the Ancient Language to remove the dirt and sweat from my skin. I could almost feel it all falling from my skin and being pulled away. I was reluctant to use soap in rivers, streams and lakes because I'd been told that it hurt the animals that drank the water.

I leaned against a rock, savoring the feel of the cold water against my skin. It was one of those rare moments in which I allowed myself to relax in the open. Suddenly I heard a sound from the nearer bank. Startled, I stood quickly and spun around to see, which was probably not smart. My eyes widened as the clouds shifted, throwing slivery moonlight onto the riverbank, illuminating everything in sharp detail.

Luckily I didn't start to panic. I knew that if I made the wrong move I'd be staring into the face of certain death.

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Yay! Stevie is part of the Varden! - For everyone who doesn't know who Stevie is, he's the short guy in the wierd clothes looking for someone else. Don't worry about him. He probably won't come up again. Adding him was just something I told a friend I would do.

Yes, Angela acted strange. That's because I think she _is_ strange. I like Angela!!!

Sorry if this chapter was suckish. I wrote it all today :(

**Reviews**? Pretty please with a cherry and/or your topping of choice on top?


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